


Reluctant Villanelle

by merryghoul



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Assassins & Hitmen, Dresses, F/F, Hotels, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Character Death, Paris (City), Season/Series 01 Spoilers, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 10:27:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15638868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryghoul/pseuds/merryghoul
Summary: The dress they’re returning isn’t fake—it’s deadlyFor contract killer Villanelle, the anonymous threat is explosive. Return the dress stolen during her last assignment—or other assassins will be hunted down.  When an assassin is killed just before meeting MI5 employee Eve Polastri, Villanelle must take Eve under her “protection.”For a psychopath, Villanelle is the most guilty-acting innocent woman Eve has ever seen. Still, working with Villanelle is the only way to stay ahead of a ruthless enemy. And as Eve’s instincts and Villanelle’s skills hone in on the truth, trusting the desire simmering between them could be their only chance—or the last move they’ll ever make.(Summary modified from the summary ofReluctant Heroby Debra Webb and Regan Black.)





	Reluctant Villanelle

**Author's Note:**

> Contains mentions of the ending of Season One and has sexual content (no sex) and minor character death. Story will probably not adhere to canon when Season Two finally airs.

The dress was pink with small flowery embroidery and a tulle skirt. The designer of the dress wasn’t well-known, but Villanelle had seen it before in runway photography from a fashion show on a fashion website. The dress was hanging in the closet of the room Villanelle was snooping in, to figure out information on her next target. Villanelle was not there for the pink dress. But the dress looked tempting to her. She could see herself on the streets of Paris, twirling on the sidewalks in that dress.

Villanelle couldn’t help herself. She grabbed the dress out of the closet it was hanging in and stuffed it up her black shirt. The dress didn’t make Villanelle look pregnant, but she didn’t care. As long as no one noticed she had stolen something from a hotel room.

 

The person who owned the dress was able to find Villanelle, even as Villanelle was lying low from her apartment she used to live in. Eve knew where Villanelle lived now. There was no way Villanelle was ever going back to her old apartment, even if her former neighbor was able to keep quiet about what she actually did.

A note, addressed to Villanelle, was taped on her residence’s door. Villanelle opened the envelope the note was placed in and read the message. “RETURN THE DRESS,” the note, written in English, said, “OR KILLERS DIE.” 

Villanelle shrugged as she threw the card in the trash. 

 

Villanelle left her residence the next day to gather intelligence on her target. Nothing would stop her.

Or so Villanelle thought. Nothing would stop her except for Eve Polastri, the woman who stabbed her in an attempt to kill her. Villanelle found someone trained in combat medicine who was able to stitch her up and let her rest for a few days. Even after Eve’s attempt to kill Villanelle, Villanelle still felt something for Eve. Maybe one day they would laugh about that one time Eve tried to kill Villanelle and they’d finally go out together on dates. And maybe kill a few people.

Villanelle saw Eve walking on the opposite side of the Rue Saint-Antoine, wearing a coat that made her look lumpy. Villanelle hated when Eve looked lumpy. _She hasn’t learned anything from me,_ Villanelle thought as she watched Eve walking. 

Something else struck Villanelle as odd. As if something bad was about to happen. Villanelle turned her body, just enough to make it seem like she was about to start walking down the street. In the corner of her eye she noticed a very obvious, at least to her, sniper peeking out of the top floor of a residence a few floors above a shop. Tan barrel, black scope and bipod base. And the gun was aimed at Eve. This person could fool the rest of Paris, but not Villanelle. If there was anyone Villanelle marginally cared about, and especially since Konstantin betrayed her, it was Eve. No one could kill Eve. Except if she wanted to kill Eve, and if that happened, it wouldn’t be soon.

Villanelle ran across the street. She didn’t care if the cars passing through the street might hit her. They knew they’d feel bad about some crazy blonde woman running across the street and they’d stop to not kill her, anyway. Which was exactly what happened when Villanelle started walking across the street.

Villanelle tackled Eve before the assassin in the window could take a shot at Eve. Confused people watched the two huddled on the ground in front of a shop; some angrily muttered things in English and French. But no one really cared about Villanelle and Eve on the ground, and all of them failed to notice whoever was trying to take out Eve. 

Eve froze when she saw Villanelle as she was getting up. “I stabbed you!”

“Yes, you did stab me.”

“I knew you didn’t die.”

“You almost died.” 

“What do you mean ‘I almost died?’”

Villanelle pointed to the window where the sniper had their rifle in the window. As Villanelle was pointing to the window, someone appeared behind the assassin with a thin metal cord. The cord was placed around the assassin’s throat. The rifle fell backwards into the residence, but didn’t go off. The assassin disappeared from the window.

“You almost died,” Villanelle continued, “but that man did.”

 

The next day, Villanelle—still hesitant to let Eve know where she lived now in Paris—met Eve at a cafe. She brought the card and the dress she stole from the hotel room.

“Someone wants to kill everyone you work with because you stole a dress from them,” Eve said, reading the card. 

“It costs 3200 Euros. Why wouldn’t I steal it?” 

“Don’t you care about whoever may be working with...”

Villanelle shook her head. “Only you.”

“Why me?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Eve looked dumbfounded at Villanelle.

“I still masturbate to you. Even after you stabbed me.”

“Uh...okay. You may not care about your...for lack of better words, ‘co-workers.’ But I care about not amassing a high body count for a dress. We need to return that dress before more of your ‘co-workers’ die.” 

Nearby a woman was violently shaking. Her convulsions started with her head and her neck. The convulsions spread to the rest of her body. The woman grabbed the table, making the plates on the table crash to the ground. People started rushing to the woman’s aid. 

“Strychnine poisoning,” Eve said as she watched the woman shaking the table.

“I kept the dress for you. As long as I have the dress, everyone who wants to kill you is dead. Why do you want to return the dress?” Villianelle grinned.

“I’m returning the dress, Villanelle, and that’s final.”

“No, we’re returning the dress.”

“I’ll have no trouble returning this dress by myself.”

“What about the woman who knew Konstantin? Can you trust her?”

Villanelle meant Eve’s handler, Carolyn. Or, quite possibly, former handler. Eve hadn’t had contact with Carolyn for a while now. After everything that happened in Russia, it was probably not a good time for Eve to figure out her relationship to Carolyn now.

Eve sighed. “I guess we’re returning the dress together.”

 

It was easy to get to the assassin’s room. Sort of. They needed the key from the receptionist’s desk. But one of them had to pretend to work at the hotel first. Villanelle volunteered. She waited patiently until an employee left the receptionist’s desk for some reason or another. Villanelle aimed a pistol at the employee’s heart. Villanelle and the employee went in the bathroom, where Villanelle forced the employee to take off her work clothes.

“Why are you doing this?” the employee asked Villanelle, in French.

“The woman I masturbate to told me to return this dress so other people won’t be killed.” Villanelle replied to the employee in English.

Not fully understanding Villanelle, the employee started to cry.

“I don’t want to see you naked. I want your clothes. You can stop crying.”

The employee gave Villanelle her clothes. “Where can I find something to wear?” 

“I don’t know.” Villanelle hid her gun behind her back, covering the employee’s work clothes over the gun. “Ask someone for a bathrobe.”

Villanelle, now wearing the employee’s clothing, went to the receptionist’s desk and picked up a spare card to the assassin’s room. The employees didn’t notice here behind the desk, and they still thought the actual employee that left the desk was still on break. 

With the card secured, Villanelle and Eve went took an elevator up to the assassin’s room by elevator. They were careful not to pick up anyone along the way, even with Villanelle stiffly holding up the dress, encased in a black polyester garment bag picked up from a luggage store.

“I forgive you for stabbing me.”

“You killed my friend!”

Villanelle nodded.

“If I killed one of your friends, would you be as nonchalant as you are right now?”

“I don’t have friends. Except you. You’re my only friend now.”

Eve groaned as the elevator stopped on the floor where the assassin was residing.

The two walked off the elevator. Eve slid the key card into the assassin’s door. The two walked in, making sure not to disturb anything. They reached the closet the dress was stolen from when the door to the hotel room was opened. Villanelle pushed Eve into the closet and followed her in it, dress still in hand.

Villanelle hung the dress in the closet, the garment bag still covering it.

“You’re not really going to leave that dress in the garment bag like that, are you?” Eve asked Villanelle in a hushed tone.

“There’s not a lot of room in here.”

“It’s a walk-in closet. We have some room to move.”

“It’s still a closet.” Villanelle walked up to Eve.

“I already said we have room to move.”

“I still think about you.”

“I know you do. Can you back up?”

“No.”

“What do you want?”

“A kiss.”

“I’m married, Villanelle.”

“I don’t care. Your husband is boring.”

Eve nodded. “All right. One kiss. Then you back away from me and stay quiet.”

Eve kissed exactly how Villanelle envisioned kissing her would be: holding Eve’s face in her hands, smelling Eve’s nice hair while in the moment, and even a little bit of tongue. 

The person in the room stopped making noise. So did Eve and Villanelle, who quickly pulled apart from one another. It felt like forever when the inevitable happened and the assassin—a tall red-headed woman in a track suit, with her hair pulled back in a ponytail—opened the closet door, a Makarov pistol in her hand. 

Villanelle unzipped the garment bag and took it off the dress. “We brought the dress back to you.”

“Get out of the closet.” 

They did as they were told. Eve grabbed the assassin’s wrist and forced her to drop her gun in Eve’s hands. But as soon as Eve wrangled the gun from the assassin, Villanelle took the gun from Eve and shot four bullets into the assassin’s heart, causing her to collapse to the floor. The assassin was dead within seconds.

“Why’d you kill her? I could’ve had her arrested.”

“I was supposed to kill her before I took her dress. And who would you call?”

Eve looked at Villanelle. “Right.”

Villanelle zipped the dress back into the garment bag. “I know a stairwell we can go down to leave. No cameras. They won’t find us.” She grabbed the garment bag.

Eve and Villanelle left the hotel room, dress, key card and the assassin’s gun in hand, and went down a small stairwell that was meant for fires and emergencies. Villanelle was able to get past the alarm system and get Villanelle and herself out of the hotel. 

Eve could hear the police circling the hotel. She knew she had to escape the hotel and yet keep an eye on Villanelle. Maybe Eve could have Villanelle captured by...someone. She didn't know who, not yet. But before Eve could find Villanelle upon exiting the stairwell, Villanelle was gone.

Eve knew Villanelle well. There would be another chance to try to catch her.


End file.
